Ron's Wedding Rose
by xxSammySabotagexx
Summary: Four years after the death of Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley has finally found love. But before he can make that walk down the aisle, his first love visits him once again.  3rd in the 'Mimi's Black Rose' series. AU/OOC/Stems from a D/Hr.


_**Third fic in the **_**Mimi's Black Rose**_** series! Hermione is still 'with' Draco, though Draco is not in this story. Must have read the first two stories for this to make any sense. Go to my profile for the links. I repeat, NOT a Hermione and Ron fic.  
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><p>The book sat on the table before him; it's binding weathered and worn. The couch in which he sat suddenly began to feel rough and ragged; no longer comfortable for his fidgeting body. How many times had he sat before this very table reading the words written on the pages? How often had his clothing gotten grey with ash from the dying fire in the fireplace?<p>

When he thought about it, he knew the answer was more often than not.

His hands twisted together in fear. When one really looked at the book, there was not much to behold. Such a simple object made from paper and leather. Why, then, was it suddenly seeming so terrifying? Why did his heart stutter and pick up speed each time his gaze fell upon it? There was only one answer to that question. One answer that he has been thinking of for the last four years. The four years in which he had been without her.

After all, it had been four years since the death of Hermione.

"Love? It's time for me to go to my mum's. Are you sure you are going to be alright?"

The soft, concerned voice trailed into the living room from the hall to his left. Snapping out of his traveling thoughts, Ronald couldn't stop his mind from melting and his heart from filling with love. For there, standing in the hall, was a person that he never expected. A person that he thought he would never find after Hermione's death. His fiancé. The woman he loved more than he ever thought possible. With the book temporarily forgotten, Ron stood up off of the couch and walked to the brown-haired beauty.

A gentle smile seemed to fix itself onto his face as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Your concern is touching, Romilda. But, I do believe I can survive on my own for one night."

Her soft sigh made his breathing stop short. But, it was her smile that had him hyperventilating. "Ron, knowing the disasters you seem to get yourself into whenever you step foot in the kitchen, I'm not entirely sure that what you say is true."

The chuckle that escaped him was hearty and husky. Oh, how he loved this woman. "Be that as it may, I am a very capable wizard. Any mess I make I can easily do away with." He pretended to stop in thought. "In fact, I could always call my mum to come and clean up the mess if things get too bad."

Rolling her eyes, Romilda Vane slid her arms around his neck and gently slapped his head. "I do not want to show up at the wedding tomorrow and hear that Molly was up all night cleaning our home. So please don't make me deal with an exhausted Molly Weasley. That is not fair."

No doubt, his mum would probably drive her to tears. "Very well; I shall try and keep everything in check."

Her smile grew momentarily before she lifted herself onto her toes, placing a sweet kiss onto his lips. A kiss he graciously returned before pulling back far enough to sit his forehead against hers. There was no part of him that wanted to let her go. His skin seemed to yearn for her touch as much as his soul desired hers.

After a few seconds of silence, Ron stepped back and out of her embrace. "You should go on. If you don't I might not let you leave."

Shrugging, Romilda started to turn away. However, the book on the table seemed to catch her eye. "Are you going to get around to opening Hogwarts: A History tonight?"

With the book suddenly reappearing in his thoughts, he glanced back to the large book. "I... think so."

Sadness stretched through Romilda's eyes, bringing her back into his arms. She knew everything about Ron's past. Including his love for Hermione, her untimely death, and the book in which she left for him in her will. At first Ron was worried she would grow jealous and want out of the relationship. However, she surprised him. She took it in stride and said that she would not replace Hermione. But, perhaps she can form a notch inside his heart all of her own. She had. And he loved her all the more for it.

"You have to read it, Ron," Her voice was low and caring. "It means so much to you. I know it does. You've been reading that book every night for four years. You've been looking for what Hermione left you in her will. Tonight that wait is over. Don't let your fear and pain stop you."

Tears began to build behind Ron's eyes. "This letter is all I've had to hold onto for years. It's all I have left of Hermione. I don't want to lose that..."

Romilda pulled back and laid her heads on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "You won't lose Hermione, love. She's right here." She slid one of her hands to rest on his chest right above his heart. "And she always will be."

He looked into her eyes for a long time, trying to find his strength. He didn't have to search for long. For his strength was standing in front of him. And they would be married the next day. "You're right, love. Thank you for reminding me."

She smiled. "Anytime."

Ron grabbed her hand into his and brought it to his lips, where they lingered longer than strictly necessary. "Right, you go on ahead. Tell your mum that I will see her in the morning."

With a quick nod, she was gone. And Ron was left standing alone in the house with the book.

His gaze was once again drawn to it; it's dark black blinding standing out from the light brown of the table top. He knew it was time to open it, like he had done every night before now. And yet, he couldn't get him feet to move towards it. He seemed to be rooted to the spot as his fear began to circle in his gut. What would happen when he read it? Would it dissolve into paper shreds, would there be the word Goodbye at the end of the letter?

He didn't know if he could handle it if it did. He'd been holding onto her for so long, how would it be to let her go and move on? The girl he had loved so dearly for so long. He knew it was unfair to Romilda, that so much of his heart still beat for Hermione Granger alone. Especially since Hermione had found a new love before her death. But, he was terrified that if he read the letter and let her go, her face would fade from his memories. That he would lose her to never get her back again. Like he had so many years before.

Even now, after the initial pain had subsided, the sting was still there. The wound merely healed over, leaving a scar that was easily torn; a scar that Ron was going to live with for the rest of his life. Hermione had been his first love. And-without a single doubt in his mind, even to this day-the true love of his life. Since childhood there was always some part of his soul that recognized hers—some part that just told him that they were meant to live their lives together and have a family.

How had the fates changed so much? And why would they?

Was it Hermione's sudden death sentence that had everything straying off the path back then? Perhaps. Or maybe she was meant for more. Maybe the whole point was for her to save a life that was otherwise lost. A life that many would agree did not deserve to be saved. Ron, sadly enough, was one of those many. At first it was merely because he thought Draco Malfoy was a slick git who needed to be sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life. Eventually, though, during their seventh year at Hogwarts he noticed Hermione and Draco together. Noticed the glimmer she would get in her eye whenever she spoke of him; whenever she'd see him. Then his hate had convinced him that Draco Malfoy was evil. That he could never be saved.

He was wrong.

In the four years since Hermione's death, Draco Malfoy became the man most men would envy. Not for his looks or for his money. Though he was blessed with both of those, it was because of his heart. The heart that Hermione had thawed and taught to love. Draco was indeed a changed man. Not only was the head chairman for many charities, but he also spends time volunteering at St. Mungo's and Hogwarts. Helping Poppy Pomphrey with her miracle potions to fight ailments, diseases, and cancers. He even offered to work as a part time professor of potions on occasion.

And yet, Draco still made time once a week to go to lunch with Ginny and Harry; to have dinner at the Burrow once a month. And more importantly to visit Hermione's grave as much as humanly possible. With all of his responsibilities, he remained devoted to the woman who saved his life—even when he lost her too soon.

Realizing that his thoughts had gotten away from him, Ron's stiff back reminded him that he had been standing against the wall staring for quite some time. After a few deep breaths, he pushed off of the wall and moved to the couch, where he slowly sat on the middle cushion. Fear aside, he had to do this. Hermione wanted him to read the letter. She spent some of her last days writing it. She deserved his time.

As slowly as he could, he reached to the book. His fingers were shaking as his nerves tingled in anticipation. He was so close to the cover that his fingertips began to twitch. Taking in a deep breath, he went to corner to push it open. Then, just as his fingers would have touched the rough leather, the clock over the fireplace struck eleven p.m. The sudden sound had him jumping up in his seat, spooked his soul.

Ron looked all around the room, noting the atmosphere was the same as it had been before. It took him a moment to realize that it was the clock that had shaken him from his stupor. With a nervous laugh, he fell back into the cushions and began to feel quite silly. For a moment there he thought that someone else was in the house. He had no idea why, but he did.

Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. His tense muscles began to relax one by one as his breathing leveled out. He was surprised at himself. One would think that Voldemort was going to come running into the room or something. "Get a grip, Weasley." Even his voice sounded strained and stiff.

Then, as he finally began to calm himself down, a small sound hit his ears. It was a sound that reminded him a lot of rustling paper. Frozen, Ron forced himself to move his hand and open his eyes. What he saw had his palms sweating in fierce unease. The book before him was opening itself, the pages turning one by one. Even the area around the table was different and unnatural. A glimmering haze was surrounding it, almost like it was trying to protect what the book held.

Ron didn't know what to do, didn't know how to react. Should he reach forward and grab the book? Or should he just let it continue to work its magic on its own? Unable to decide which was best, he settled for remaining completely still, his hands tightening into fists in either side of his legs. Seconds passed and soon turned to minutes. Still the book continued to turn its own pages, as if it were on a mission and knew exactly what it was doing. For all Ron knew it did.

Had Hermione done this before she died? Put a spell on her favorite book as some sort of message?

His question soon answered itself as the book's pages stopped turning. At first nothing happened and the book remained in its place. Then, so quickly that Ron wasn't even sure he saw it, the glimmering grew more intense, sending out balls of shining light. The fire in the fireplace got snuffed out, the left over smoke evaporating at an accelerated rate. The atmosphere felt charged with energy, as if it was building towards something.

The balls of light began coming with more intensity, the light almost blinding to Ron's eyes. Unable to force them open any longer, he shut them and turned away. Even through his eyelids, however, the light grew brighter and brighter still. Uncomfortable pain began to begin behind his eyes. And yet the lights kept forming from the book, now a thick white cloud of light. His arms flew in front of his face in an attempt to protect his face. Something felt wrong.

Before he could react, a sudden wave of energy hit him square in the chest. The blast forcing his back hard against the couch, flipping it onto the floor and him with it. Slamming onto the floor with a loud crack, Ron curled into a ball in an effort to ward off any other attacks. After a few seconds, though, he noticed there was no more light. Even the energy in the room seemed to have returned to normal. That didn't convince him enough to stand. If anything he felt all the more compelled to stay on the ground. At least for a few moments. No need to hurry.

"Ron?"

Every cell in his body seemed to turn into ice. That voice. No. It's not possible. It can't be!

"Ronald Weasley, stop cowering behind that couch and come sit with me."

Disbelief circled in his gut, warning him that his sanity seemed to have taken a detour into craziness. There was just no way that this was happening. No way at all.

"Ok, look you have exactly ten seconds to come forward or else the magic will dissipate and you will lose the one chance you have to talk to me."

The voice started to slowly count down from ten. It wasn't until he heard the number four that he finally forced himself to his feet. His eyes immediately circled the room once he was as sturdy as he could control his shaking legs. But there was no one else around. No one but him, the bloody couch, and Hogwarts: A History floating in the air with Hermione's face in it.

Wait, what?

"Hermione!" Ron couldn't believe his eyes. She was there, her beautiful brown eyes staring straight into his; a small smile on her tired looking face.

She nodded. "Who else would it be?"

Ron suspected that he looked much like a fish out of water. "Well, considering the fact that you are... well, dead? Forgive me for being a little nervous."

The Hermione in the book let out a small laugh. "Yes, I'm very aware of the fact that I am dead. No need for you to remind me of that right now. After all, I'm here for you. Not for me."

Sighing, Ron felt his heart beating strong against his chest. And yet at the same time he felt it breaking. It was so painful to see her again. Painful, wonderful, and terrifying all wrapped into one beautiful brown-eyed-bushy-haired package. So, with the thought in mind that she probably didn't have much time, he righted the couch and sat back down.

The book continued to hover a foot directly in front of his face. "I thought you left me a letter. Your will never said anything about you leaving yourself in the book."

Her deep eyes glittered and her smile grew. "This is a letter. Well, a letter I enchanted to act as a sort of apparition or astral projection. I won't get into the mechanics of it. It would just make you grow cross-eyed."

A small smile played on his lips. Only Hermione knew him quite so well. Taking a breath, he took in her face. Judging by the shadows surrounding her eyes and the pale, flushed appearance of her cheeks, this was how she looked right before her death. "So, this isn't really you?"

A sadness crept into her eyes. "If you are asking if I came back from the dead to speak with you, the answer is no. I don't have that kind of power, Ronald. I wish I did. But, I don't."

He nodded his head in sadness. He suspected as much.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, astral Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Now that we are on the subject, how long has it been since I died?"

"Four years," he said, "Four years, three months, and twenty-seven days to be exact."

Hermione's face fell for a moment, only to soon be replaced by playful humor. "I see you managed to find a woman to fall for your wonderful-yet-stubborn heart sooner than I thought."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he remained silent and just stared at her, trying to memorize her face for when she had to leave him again.

"Who is it?" She smiled at him again.

Oh, how that smile made his heart do somersaults even to this day. "Romilda. Romilda Vane."

At first Hermione did nothing. She just stared at him, her brain trying to process what he just said. Then, at the drop of a hat, astral Hermione started to laugh. And laugh hard. Tears began falling freely down her face, dripping down the pages to hit his table in little droplets. Her laugh mesmerized him. How had he gone so long without realizing he no longer remembered her laugh? He never understood just what he was missing.

As her laughter subsided she looked at him with eyes bright with delight. "So ironic it is, that you would end up in love with her."

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

She smiled. "Well, try to remember back to sixth year. Does a box of chocolates with Harry's name on it ring any bells?"

Oh. That's right. He'd completely forgotten about that. When she put it that way it really was ironic. "I guess that was just fate's way of trying to tell me something," he shrugged, remembering something from the past. "Much like fate was trying to tell you something about Draco Malfoy when you punched him in third year."

Her eyes filled with sorrow, but her smile remained on her face. "Yes, though I don't believe Draco thinks of it that way."

Ron shook his head. "You'd be surprised. He tells that story quite often when he goes to the Burrow for dinner. Says that he still rubs his nose, he does."

Her smile faded slightly, the sorrow stretching from her eyes to her lips. "Oh. I was unaware."

The two of them sat silently. Ron didn't know what to say and astral Hermione appeared to be lost in thought. Her love for Draco was so strong it seemed to pass on through her astral self. "He's doing really well, Mione," she looked up at him as he spoke, tears in her eyes. "You changed him for the better. He really is doing well for himself by saving lives."

She smiled again, though this one didn't meet her eyes. "I'm glad." A few seconds later she shook her head as if to clear it and smiled again. "So, Ronald, tell me. You excited to be getting married tomorrow?"

Affronted by her abrupt question, he didn't know quite how to respond. "Yes, I believe so."

She caught the note in his voice that he tried to suppress. "You believe so? Are you starting to get cold feet, Ron?"

He shook his head. "Not quite. I know I love Romilda. I want to be with her."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Then what is the problem? And don't say 'nothing' because I know what I am sensing from you."

Ron didn't really want to answer that question. So, he tried to change the subject. "You always knew what I was feeling before I knew myself. Have I ever told you how annoying that always was?"

Astral Hermione appeared to get annoyed. "Yes, well, I also knew whenever you would try to change the subject in an effort to gain avoidance. And that will not work this time, Ronald. I've got only a few minutes left. So you might as well come clean."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

She sighed. "Yes, you do. What is it, Ron?"

His eyes caught hers. What did she want him to say? That he was scared to marry Ramilda because he still loved her? That every ounce of his soul knows that the true love of his life is dead? How did she expect him to admit these things to her? It took him years to admit that he had feelings for her in the past. How can he tell her that he can't move on from her, when she is all that he wants?

"Ron?" Her words were full of unease.

"You."

"I beg your pardon?" She looked confused now.

"The problem is you, Hermione." His voice was thick with emotion. It was so much harder to admit to the strong emotions he had been feeling for all these years than he thought.

At first she looked slightly offended. Then, understanding seemed to have overtaken her eyes. "I see."

"Do you, now?" Anger started to well up within him and he couldn't stop the words that suddenly came tumbling out. "You see how ever since you died a part of me has died too? That the woman I was destined to be with for the rest of my life wasn't even present in half of it? You see that the love of my life died before we even had a chance at a life together? Hermione, I can't be completely ok with marrying Romilda when a large part of me yearns for it to be you at the other end of the aisle tomorrow."

He lifted himself to his feet and began pacing. The book followed his movements, allowing astral Hermione to continue to watch his face. "And it kills me, Mione. It kills me every day that you aren't here. That you didn't even love me before you died. But, more so, it kills me that Romilda knows all of this. That she knows she comes second to you. And yet, she doesn't care. She loves me so much and wants to be with me to the point that she is willing to be loved less than she deserves. There's no one like her and I don't deserve her."

During his entire rant, astral Hermione just listened, taking in his words. Now that he was done she started to nod. "Alright then."

His anger flared again. "Alright! That's all you have to say? You aren't going to tell me that I'm making a mistake marrying Romilda? That if I'm still in love with you then I shouldn't be with someone else because it isn't fair?"

She just shook her head. "You aren't going to get it."

He threw up his hands in frustration. "I'm not going to get what?"

"You aren't going to get any sympathy from me. And you aren't going to get any lectures from me either."

"And why is that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because, Ron, you have already moved on from me. You've already recognized that you don't need to hold onto me in order to live a happy life."

Had she not been listening? "Hermione, I just told you that all I want is you. Can you not listen?"

"Oh, I listen just fine. It's you who needs to listen to yourself." She looked so sure of herself that had she been here in person he might have strangled her.

"What do you mean by that?" His face was red and hot, anger still evident in his veins.

She sighed again. "You just said that Romilda is willing to be loved less than she deserves. And that there was no one like her. That you don't deserve her."

Yes, he was aware of this. "So what?"

Now it was astral Hermione's turn to get angry. "Open your eyes and listen with your heart for a change, Weasley! Only someone who truly loved Romilda would say that they don't deserve her! Only someone who recognized her heart and soul would say they aren't good enough! By thinking you aren't good enough for her; you are proving that you are. You already love her to that point, Ron. And if you really believed that you were destined to be with me, you wouldn't be feeling the way you do. It doesn't work like that."

Ron didn't know what to say to that. He never thought of it that way. "Even if that were true, there is no way for you to know for sure."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Dear Ronald. Do you not remember the source of this spell? The spell in which enables me to be speaking with you now?"

He raised an eyebrow, completely confused.

"Can you not remember what it said in my will all those years ago?"

As he was about to say no, his thoughts immediately flew back to that painful day.

****Flashback****

"To my darling Ronald."

Ron's ears turned pink as his heart raced. There was no stopping the tears in his eyes.

"While you were the last to know of my dire fate, I want you to know that you were always the hardest to tell. You were my first crush and my best friend. We might have argued, but I wouldn't trade that for the world. And for that, I leave you my favorite book, Hogwarts: A History."

At first, Ron's mouth fell open. He couldn't believe that Hermione was leaving him a book when he didn't read at all. Though, as Percy handed him the think book, he couldn't stop himself from hugging it to himself. This was, after all, the book Hermione read the most.

"Ron, don't worry. There's more."

Ron's eyes snapped open; he hadn't even realized they were closed.

"Inside the book is a letter just for you to read. But, there is a catch. It is charmed and will only be readable when you find the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with. It's hard enough that I won't be physically at any wedding you may have. So, I left a letter for you to read the night before your wedding. I love you, Ron, I always have. I'm just sorry it wasn't the way you wanted it to be."

Ron finally let the tears fall. He nodded his head and clutched the book tighter. Harry patted his shoulder as he stood and left the room. He was going to read this book, he was. Every night for the rest of his life.

****End of Flashback****

Hermione nodded as he returned to the present. "Yes, I see you remember now," she smiled slightly, "The only way I would have appeared to you is if you were going to marry the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with."

His heart suddenly sped up as he sat down on the couch. Is it possible that what she is saying is true? "So, you're saying that-"

She nodded before he could finish his question. "Yes, Ron. I am."

"I do love Romilda..." As he said those words, he felt them to be true.

"You do, Ronald. You moved on from me when you saw her again after Hogwarts. You just wouldn't accept it." She smiled at him, her eyes filled with tears.

Ron smiled with her, his heart feeling light and warm. In feeling that he wasn't right for Romilda, he made himself good for her. His love for Hermione wasn't one and only. If anything it was to prepare him; to help him to learn what to expect when he truly found his one and only. Granted, he would always love Hermione. She was his first love and one of his best friends. There would always be a place for her in his heart and he would always mourn for her. But, now he could devote himself to Romilda.

The love of his life.

Suddenly, the clock struck midnight. "It's time for me to go now, Ron."

It took a moment for those words to sink into his mind. When they did, Ron felt himself begin to panic. "What? No! Not yet!"

Hermione smiled sadly, "This letter was meant to help you accept my death and move on with your life. I wanted you to know that I love you, but you don't need me. You don't have to hold on to me so tight that you never see anyone else. Even if I fade from your memory, I will always be in your heart. Nothing with ever change that."

Her face started to fade from the pages. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to talk about. The memories they shared, the battles they fought. He ached to share his new life with her. To tell her how he was doing as an Auror for the Ministry or how Harry and Ginny's life as a married couple has been; to tell her about their wedding. He wasn't going to be able to though. And he had to keep reminding himself that this wasn't the real Hermione. This was just a memory of her that was meant to make him happy. To make him let her go.

Ron didn't want her to go, but he knew there was no way for him to stop it. So, he took the time and said what he has wanted to say for four years. "I really do love you, Hermione. I'm so sorry for everything."

Hermione's answering smile was bright and full of happiness. "There is nothing to be sorry for, Ron. Nothing at all." Her face was barely visible now, but her voice was still strong and true. "I love you, Ron. I'll be seeing you."

She was gone.

The book shut itself and fell to the table, the fire in the fireplace igniting again to brighten the darkened room. Ron remained seated, his heart aching from the thick silence in the room. How had he not noticed how loud silence really was? The walls he usually found so comforting seemed to scream at him. His heart ached to her Hermione's voice again. Even though he knew that he never would again. And yet, Hermione's words still echoed in his head, his heart full of his love for Ramilda. Finally, after four years of dwelling on her death, Ron was ready to let her go. Hermione was gone, but it wasn't forever. He would see her again someday. They would be together again. But, it wouldn't just be them. They'll be with their families and friends.

And he would also be with Romilda.

Smiling, with eyes full of tears, Ron stood up off the couch and grabbed the book from the table. It felt normal, it's binding rough yet smooth. Who would've thought it held such beautiful magic. Magic that only Hermione would ever possess. So strong and lovely, with the purity of joy and love that only the brightest witch in England would have been able to create.

Pulling out his wand, Ron killed the flames of the fire, letting the embers continue to smolder lightly. Just like his love for Hermione, it was small and warm. But it was still there, burning bright in its own way. That's how it would always be. With a heavy heart, his feet brought him to the mantle where the pictures from his childhood sat. And there in the middle was a picture of him, Harry, and Hermione. It was of the three of them right after the final battle. They were torn, bloodied, and ragged. And yet, they never looked more at peace. Lifting the heavy book, he sat it on the mantle next to the picture before turning towards the hall. The book was part of his past; just like the picture was. In the morning he faced his future. A future that looked even more inviting.

Suddenly, a bright flash of shimmering light erupted from behind him, catching him completely off guard. Confused, Ron rushed back towards the source. As he entered the room again, however, the light dimmed down to almost nothing. The only light remaining was a ball of sparkling lights centered over the mantle; like thousands of diamonds all wrapped together. He neared it slowly; unsure as to why the ball of light was appearing on top of Hogwarts: A History.

Without thinking, he raised his hand as if to touch it. His fingertips tingled as they went through the ball of light; a light that appeared so bright and yet didn't hurt his eyes. Mesmerized, his hand became enveloped by the light, his skin buzzing with power. A power that did not last long, for almost as soon as it began, the bright light exploded into hundreds of tiny little diamonds raining down around him. And where the bright ball of light once was, there laid his hand clutched in a loose fist. Inside, against his palm, he felt the soft texture of something. Something that appeared in his hand once the light burst.

Cautiously he opened his hand and peered down at his open palm. What Ron saw made him chuckle in amusement. A boutonniere with petals like thousands of interwoven sapphires glistening in the light sat in his hand. A rose, a blue rose pieced with baby's breath and held together with silky yellow ribbon.

Blue, yellow, and white—the color themes of his wedding.

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><p><em><strong>Thanks to all of my devoted readers! I hope this is to your liking! The next one in the series is <strong>_**Harry's Dream Rose.**_** So, keep a look out for it! Thanks!**_

_**-xxSammySabotagexx**_


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